


A name was just a name until you said it

by maeusetod



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Andreil, M/M, Soulmate AU, first attempt on soulmate concept, world without exy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeusetod/pseuds/maeusetod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew Minyard did not believe in fate, but for a moment it seemed fate did believe in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A name was just a name until you said it

Soulmate – a person with whom you share a mutual affinity and a special bond because you understand each other’s feelings, may it be friendship or romantic attraction. For some people the name of his or her soulmate may appear on their wrist. Usually this process continues over a period of years until it’s fully readable. The amount of time differs for each individual and cannot be accelerated nor revoked. Down to the present day when and if this process occurs cannot be foreseen.

 

Andrew dried himself with a towel, put it around his waist and pulled his black wristbands over the faded scars, covering his skin from his wrists up to his elbows. White lines crisscrossing his underarm, some almost faded some clearly to be seen. It was always the first thing he put on after showering. He had no idea when this habit started. He didn't even mind his scars. The wristbands were there so that others wouldn't start asking questions. He always told everyone it was a joke, a way to tell him apart from his twin Aaron, like he had in college, but you had to be a fool to not tell them apart just from the way they behaved. He wondered if they didn't ask because they knew he didn't like to be asked or if they seriously believed there was nothing more to it then what he told them. He had seen all his co-workers staring at them questioningly, but none of them ever said anything. Sometimes he thought about leaving them off. How funny the reaction of his co-workers would be; he could imagine their shocked stares and hushed whispers. But he did not want to deal with the aftermath that would follow. It was hard enough to get along with those he worked with. He had no intention to make it more complicated than it already was. 

He noticed how faded the black fabric already was. They looked more like dark grey now. He thought about buying new ones, remembered then that he had bought them all the way back in South Carolina at a local store owned by a tall brunette with a slight tooth gab and a nametag with ‘Catherine’ written on it. He would either wear them till they fell apart or find a place to buy them over here. 

He had done it to balance the pain, to get control over his life and it had worked somehow. But the consequences of his action would always be visible on his skin. Some scars may have already faded, but the ones on his left wrist, the ones that erased the hideous words, would never disappear. They would always be there, like the memory of the day he first deciphered them.

He wanted to forget the name, like he wanted to forget so many things, but it didn't matter how carefully he had erased it from his wrist. It would always be burned in his head because Andrew was someone not capable of forgetting. He would always remember the name and his past and he had found a way to live with it. His life had always been about choosing between the bad solution and the even worse, but the one thing that he was determined about was that his life still belonged to him and he would do everything to keep it that way. So whatever name was written on his wrist was part of his past and had nothing to do with him anymore. Back when he had to take medication out of court order, he had lost the control over his life. They had told him he needed the medication. They had told Andrew that he wouldn’t last a day in the real world. He had just replied that they wouldn’t survive one night in his. Now that those days were over, he did not let anyone meddle with anything personal ever again. He had majored in criminal justice as an act of rebellion, he had never thought he would end up having a job at the witness security program, he had never thought of having any kind of job. Strangely enough he liked what he did for a living.

After he put on some jeans and a shirt, he threw away the cigarette butts from yesterday, which were covering the ash tray and thought for the umpteenth time he should restrict smoking to being outside. He opened the fridge. The light illuminated a half empty bottle of orange juice, a milk carton, and a lot of emptiness. Andrew hoped his cousin Nicky would visit him before long and would restock his fridge and maybe cook something, because he mostly had take-away and did not bother to go shopping all too often. Bad thing was last time he had spoken with Nicky his cousin was still in Germany and had no intention to come back any time soon. He had the apprehension his fridge would stay an energy wasting unnecessarity for a while longer.

 

A coffee and a bagel later, he arrived at the Justice Department. Before he even had even time to open his jacket his boss was already walking towards him, file in his hand. . Andrew still wondered why he hadn’t fired him, when he took over witness protection. His co-workers would definitely celebrate him for doing so. He bet Henderson had read his file and if he did so, there would be one or two things to use against him. With his old boss he had a deal that had something to do with the first case he was put on, but now there was nothing to secure him anymore and he had been sure he had to leave as soon as he signed his retirement papers. Strangely enough it did not happen. Maybe he needed a prophylactical scapegoat or there was something going on that he did not know about and he hated this feeling. He wanted to know the cards he was playing with and if Henderson had some aces up in his sleeves he needed to find out at least how many, but now he first had to show him he could at least do his job.

“New case,” he said, handing him the papers.

“Great,” Andrew answered, no enthusiasm whatsoever. He opened it and saw only black lines, disconnected by a few left out words.

“What’s that supposed to be?” he asked, pointing at the pages.

“Most of the information is classified,” Henderson answered.

“I wouldn’t have noticed,” Andrew replied. “We are on the same side here,” he told him. 

“We may be on the same side, but you and I are in different positions. Look, just keep the man safe and let me handle the why, okay,” the chief told him.

“Who is working with me?” Andrew asked. He wasn’t quite pleased to be left out, but he knew that it would not make any difference to argue about it.

“Macintire is with you on that one,” he answered.

“That’s it?” he questioned.

“That’s it,” the chief answered and Andrew had the feeling also wanted to indicate the end of the conversation.

“Where is he?”

“Interrogation room four at the moment,” he told Andrew and went back to his office.

Andrew opened the file again and noticed that not even his name was in there. Almost everything was blacked out. Whatever he wanted to know about his person, he would either have to be answered by the person one-on-one or would remain unknown forever. Somehow Andrew got curios of what to await and directly made his way towards interrogation room four.

Most people in WITSEC were criminals themselves, disloyal assholes that wanted to save themselves while selling out others, others were simply people who made profit out of dealing with criminals and now the profit was gone they pretended to be saints. Andrew was used to all this. This was reality and Andrew did not care for the people, he cared for the money and to finally live his own life without being bothered by anyone telling him what to do. But the man in front of him did not seem like he would fit in those categories.

He wasn't tall, but his whole appearance, with faded out jeans and oversized hoodie, made him look tiny. His face looked young, Andrew guessed he was a few years younger than himself, but his eyes looked older, like the ones of a man who had seen a lot of this world. The next thing Andrew noticed was the dark contact lenses. He wondered what the guy wanted to achieve. If he craved for a plainer look it wasn’t helping. Even with dark contacts and uncut hair hanging over his forehead his sharp jawline and striking eyes were still prominent.

He was staring at the two-way mirror taking the entire opposite wall. Andrew knew this scene all too well. How many times he had faced his own reflection, seeing everything that was wrong, every imperfection starring back at him. Confined in a small dark room like this, with only your reflection to keep you company, you had no choice but to think about all the mistakes and all the wrong choices you had made and you started to wonder about where they would lead you.  
Andrew entered the room and interrupted the stranger’s thoughts.

“What should I call you?” Andrew asked him, as he sat down opposite of him.

“The new one is Neil Josten,” the stranger told him, his voice deeper than had Andrew expected.

Just a moment later the door opened and Harold Macintire entered the room. The Marshal was tall, probably towering Andrew by a head or two, his grey hair cut short in military style. Contrary to his appearance he was one of the nice reserved ones that Andrew liked working with and Andrew did not like to work with anyone.

“Excuse him, his manners are a bit, let’s say nonexistent,” Macintire told him as he entered. 

Andrew could not take his eyes away from the man that was now called Neil. As Macinitre entered Neil's eyes had widened, his posture closed. He was clearly uncomfortable with Macintires presence, maybe even a bit scared. He had tried his best not to show it, but he could not keep it a secret from Andrew. He had dealt with enough fear and terror in his life to see every hint of it. Macintire might be tall and muscled, but he was someone who always had this annoying smile plastered on his face when he met someone knew, so it wasn’t him that intimidated Neil Josten. Andrew guessed it was someone he was reminded of. He did not know whom and if this information was useful, but if it was at least he wouldn’t forget it. He let Macintire do all the talking and watched Neil’s body language, but soon got bored, because Neil Josten wasn’t telling much and what he was telling was mostly lies or half-truths and he soon wished to get it over with. 

 

There was a ton of paperwork to do to make this John Doe officially to a man named Neil Josten. If he would be in charge of the paperwork Andrew would have another job by now. Luckily he only had to care for the persons until they finally had a new existence. Whoever this Neil Josten was, he did a great deal to keep it quiet around him. Nobody in the justice department knew anything or talked about it. He had no idea if there was even a court trial running against someone. His job was to keep him save until everything was arranged and this is why they were currently driving to some motel not far from the department. He wished he could at least drive his own car instead of this one that was old and smelled even older. At least Macintire let him drive. 

They drove in silence, everybody engraved in his own thoughts. Now and then he looked into the rearview mirror. Neil Josten was staring out of the window, not moving an inch. Andrew noticed only now how worn out he looked. The circles under his bloodshot eyes were dark and evident and he looked as if he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while. Andrew wondered for how long he had been on the run. It had to be for at least a few months to look like this. He was wearing the same clothes as he had the first time they met, the same faded out jeans and black hoodie that looked as if he had owned it for years. He looked like someone that would rather run away from problems then cause them and it intrigued Andrew why he needed witness protection and they were making such a mystery out of it. He had no time to study Neil further because they arrived at their destination. They got out of the car and Macintire went to the trunk to get Neil’s duffel bag out, but Neil pushed him out of the way and grabbed the bag instead. The motel looked shabby. Neil didn’t look like he minded much as he went straight ahead. Andrew followed him unenthusiastically, hoping their stay wouldn’t last for long.

 

The bathroom in the motel only had a tiny window and the lightbulb seemed to be from the previous century. As Andrew was washing his hands he looked up at the mirror. His hair was a bit disheveled, but he didn’t really care. For a moment it was as if the face he was seeing wasn’t his. Dark contacts were suddenly staring back at him. He almost lost his breath for a second. There was a loud noise and cracks were running along his reflection. He had punched the mirror without being conscious of it. Andrew turned around even if he was sure he was the only one in the room. Had no idea what was happening to him, but as no one cared for the shattering of glass in the bathroom he knew something was not the way it should be.

He opened the bathroom door and immediately noticed something strange. Macintire was lying on his bed, but he was clearly not sleeping. Seemed like he was out cold. He wondered how someone as skinny and scrawny like Neil could knock out someone as sturdy as Macintire, but he should have known better. Neil had clearly lived a life on the run and Andrew could bet Macintire was not the first person Neil had knocked unconscious. What made him wonder the most was why Neil had decided to wait for him to go to the bathroom instead of trying to knock him out instead. He did not bother checking if Macintire was alright. Neil Josten seemed to be a chronicle liar, but he did not look like a person who had any intention to kill someone if it wasn't indispensable.

Andrew ran outside and saw Neil getting into a black car, closing the door behind him. He did not seem rushed or frightened and he saw no one that could have forced him, nobody outside the car. He watched the car drive away with normal speed and disappearing into the next street to the right.

“Do you have anything,” Macintire was shouting as he ran towards him, obviously meaning the car brand and the license plate number. Of course Andrew remembered every detail from the slight bump on the left side, to the tinted back windows, unable to ever forget, but Macintire did not need to know that.

“No, it was a dark color,” that's all I have, Andrew lied.

“Damn,” Macinire said, heavily breathing as he reached him. “We have to report it,” he said, nervousness clearly vibrating in his voice. 

“Do we?” Andrew replied.

“He got away,” Macintire stated.

“Exactly,” Andrew told him, but saw that Macintire obviously didn't get his point.

“Nobody came in here, what means he left the house out of his free will. He went to the police out of his free will, too. So why should he run away when it was him that sought our help in the first place. I think chances are high he's coming back”, Andrew explained. It was probably the longest conversation he ever had with Macintire since both their social skills were clearly lacking.

“So, what do you suggest now?” Macintire asked him.

“Now, we wait,” Andrew told him and made his way back to the motel.

“And what to we tell Hendersonif he doesn't come back and we have to report it? That we waited?” Macintire was clearly not fond of Andrew’s idea.

“You can say you were unconscious,” Andrew tried to calm him down.

“And what do you say?” he asked.

“That's my problem,” Andrew told him.

 

Back in the motel Macintire sat down on one of the beds and turned a news channel on. Andrew decided to listen with half an ear and play senseless games on his phone. As he heard the weather forecast for the fourth time there was a knocking on the door. He rushed to the door and opened it. It seemed he was right. Neil was back. Andrew grabbed I'm on the collar of his jacked and pulled him inside and pressed him against the wall.

“What do you think you're doing?” he growled. Neil kept quit.

“I asked you something”, Andrew shouted.

“God damn, Minyard,” Macintire shouted from the back but didn't interfere.

“I had to do some personal things,” Neil made an attempt in explaining himself.

“All you do is lie, give me something I can believe,” Andrew said not trusting a word he said. People in the program were mostly either brutally honest, not caring a thing about what others might think of them or what consequences their words had, because they thought they were invincible now they had the law on their side, or they were chronical liars, like the man in front of him.

He shoved Neil against the wall. He couldn’t understand how Neil couldn’t be more serious about it, he did not want to understand. Someone who was constantly lying told him to rely on what he did. Nothing of that made sense to him, even though a part of him understood.

“You have to trust me on that,” Neil said. He looked at Neil, his eyes met Neil’s and he noticed the steely determination in it. A resoluteness that he only knew of one other person, himself.  
Andrew punched him in the stomach and left him sinking down on the wall.

“You don't do personal. You play by the rules and the rules are what I tell you. Got it, Josten?”

“Yes”, he said while standing up again.

Andrew went toward the bed.

“You can call me Abram,” Neil said as he almost reached it. A burning sensation spread from his wrist through his whole body.

“You are Neil Josten now, no one else,” Andrew replied. He knew Neil was not lying. He gave something and required Andrews trust in return. And even though he did not want to admit it, he could grasp that they were not that different, that there was something connecting both of them. And that was when he knew fate was playing a game with him and he had not the winning hand.

 

He saw Henderson rushing with the same stressed look inside his bureau for the third time this day alone, not speaking of the days before. Something was definitely up. This normally wouldn't bug Andrew much, but he had the feeling it was concerning Neil Josten and even if he shouldn't care, he did. Andrew, who was unable to forget, had the look Neil had shown after Andrew had pressed him to the wall and hit him engraved in his memories. And that look was haunting him now. 

Henderson left his office shortly after and Andrew followed him, taking the pack of cigarettes with him to notice the others he would take a cigarette break. He found Henderson smoking outside, too, while he talked to the head of the police department. Andrew had only seen the man once before. He went close enough to hear them, but not to be seen and hoped they didn't notice him, even if they were trained to do exactly that.

“You do remember who got you this position, right?” The head of police asked. Henderson took a long drag of his cigarette blowing the cold smoke out slowly, so that it painted patterns in the air.

“Rome wasn't built in one day. I got a lead, but it will take a while for them to make a move. Sooner or later his men will come after him,” Hederson told him, clearly angered by the indication.

“I want them in prison, or better dead. This is personal,” the head of police told him.

“And they want the butcher’s son. Sooner or later they will make a mistake,” Henderson assured him. 

“And he will not run?” he asked.

“That's the best thing, he doesn't know”, Henderson had a cruel smile plastered on his face and that alone was enough for Andrew to want to hit him and turn this smile into a bloody mess. A few years ago he might have done exactly that, but instead he turned around extinguished the half smoked cigarette and went to find Neil Josten.

 

His expensive black car was speeding over the freeway, while he nervously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He hadn't felt like this since he last saw Kevin Day. He couldn't stop asking himself why he was even going there. It was so unlike him get involved in someone else's problems, unless he cared. And it took a lot for him to care. Neil Josten was no were near that state and nevertheless he was getting involved.

The drive was short, so it didn't take him long to arrive in front of the apartment building. As he parked the first thing he noticed was that the lights in the apartment were off. It was early evening. It could be that Neil hadn't turned it on yet, or that he wasn't even there. He didn't even notice he was scratching his arm until his wristband was all rolled down. Andrew thought about the name that could once be seen there. There had been a time when he thought that it made a difference. He had thought that someone out there would understand how he felt, that it would change things. But soon he had understood that this kind of thinking wouldn’t get him anywhere and he had erased the name and all the foolish hope along with it and somewhere along the way he started to hate the name. It was as if fate was mocking him. Telling him there was someone he was connected to, but keeping him away.

He dismissed his thoughts, pulled the strap up and rang the doorbell. No one answered. He felt strange just standing there. It had been senseless to come anyway. He went back to his car, sat inside, but could not start the engine. This wasn't him and he hated this feeling. He wasn't even sure what this feeling was. He had never felt this way. He grabbed the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white while his body tensed, but he couldn't drive away. It was as if a force was holding him here and if there was one thing Andrew hated it was the feeling of being controlled. And the source of his problems was walking towards his car this exact moment.  
As he saw Neil Josten walking towards his car, a bag of groceries in each hand, he knew he had to control the rage that was rising inside him. He got out of the car and stormed towards him grabbing his arm. The bag of groceries landed on the floor and some of the content scattered on the pavement.

“What...” Neil started, but stopped mid-sentence.

Andrew saw the fine line that could barely be seen on the back of Neil's wrist. He knew what it meant, even if the name couldn't yet be read. It was strange that Andrew had known the name of his soulmate for so long and Neil still didn't know. Andrew didn't even really know what he wanted to do now, but if the police was up to something it was fair to at least warn him.

“Someone is after you”, Andrew said.

“Shouldn't you take care of that?” He replied.

“This time we don't.”

“Who? One of my father’s people?” Neil asked him.

Andrew hadn't even known that he was running away from his father. But he had to be someone important enough to make a secret out of it. Andrew let the conversation of Henderson and the head of police replay inside his head and something didn't quite end up. He looked at Neil, who tried to hold up a front of poise, but Andrew could see him trembling underneath. He had gone to the police in hope the running had an end and he could finally breath free and now everything he had hoped for scattered into pieces.

“Something about a butcher”, Andrew told him and knew immediately it had been a mistake. Neil dropped his bags and looked as Andrew just read his death sentence. Andrew had seen his fragile being behind all his confidence, but now he could see the real fright. Andrew suddenly felt sick in his stomach. Neil turned around and ran away.  
Andrew though was not finished with the conversation. 

“Nathaniel,” Andrew shouted and saw Neil freeze in his movements.

“What? First you want help, now you don't? Time to choose”, Andrew said, surprised by his own statement. Andrew was no one to help people just because. Neil ignored his words and started to run away again and it was for Andrew as if his problems were running away with him, too.

 

He knew that Henderson would come at him one way or another, but Andrew decided it was best to appear at work nevertheless. He had been awake all night because his right arm was hurting to no end and he knew no painkillers in the world would do any help. He needed a cup of coffee. It was a distasteful broth, but it was better than no coffee at all. Lucky someone had already made some, so he only had to help himself. Trying to get the mug out of the cupboard with his right hand was a mistake, though. He could hold it properly and it landed on the floor with a bang.

“Everything alright?” one of his co-workers asked. He plainly ignored the question. He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name, which meant that he didn’t even knew his name. He knelt down and collected the shards, mostly with his left hand because his right was still shaking too much. He should have stopped Neil somehow, should have punched him in the stomach so hard he lost his breath or something. He had to talk to Neil again. He needed to fix this and make the pain disappear. He had to ask where Neil was at the moment and somehow do it without being conspicuous since Neil was not in his jurisdiction anymore.

“What the hell did you say to him?” a furious Henderson shouted, storming towards him.

“To whom?” Andrew said mockingly.

“Don’t play dumb Minyard, we know you talked to Wesninski,” Henderson continued screaming,but now directly in front of him.

“Wesninki, yes,” Andrew said, grinning, as he watched Henderson face twitching when he noticed the slip.

“He got away. Nobody knows where he is and he disappeared shortly after you talked to him. Don’t tell me this is a coincidence,” he told him.

“Isn’t that what you wanted in first place,” Andrew said and turned around.

“Where the hell are you going?” Henderson started to scream again.

“My arm is hurting, bringing the sick note tomorrow,” he said raising his left hand as he went.

“Along with your dismissal notice, please,” Henderson replied.

 

Andrew hadn’t even had time to make himself comfortable on his couch, when the doorbell rang. He hadn’t expected to find Neil Josten standing in front of the door, his face a bloody mess, his eyes lifeless, one eye missing a contact and showing an intense color of blue. Andrew did not remember telling him where he lived or even indicating anything related. Andrew went a step to the side to let Neil in. He didn’t bother that he was a dirty and bloody mess. He saw Neil standing there for a moment contemplating what do. It looked as if the decision to come in or not would have deep consequences that Andrew couldn’t see.

After a moment he stepped inside. His movements were slow and he could barely hold his balance. Andrew wanted to reach for his arm to steady him, when he noticed that Neil's arms where covered in cuts and bruises.  
“Someone got me out halfway,” Neil suddenly said out of nowhere even if Andrew hadn’t asked and he heard an unspoken too bad it wasn’t you.

“You’re okay?” he asked wondering if Neil shouldn’t be in an emergency room instead of his apartment. Then, his eyes caught his right wrist. The tiny mark that had been there was now erased by a deep cut encrusted with blood. Andrew had a feeling he knew why Neil had ended up in front of his door, what had let him here out of all places, but Neil would never know why. 

“I’m fine,” he told Andrew. He was lying again and Andrew knew he would continue it, for it was his way of living, his way of keeping himself alive. Andrew thought about what it would take to get Neil to tell the truth. For a long time there had been no one that he had bothered to really care about and the last person he expected it to be was the one whose name he had once loathed. He led Neil towards the living room and helped him sit on the couch. Their eyes met and something in them changed. The cold distant look disappeared and was replaced by something better. Suddenly the pain in Andrew's arm stopped and he had the feeling as if too much blood was flowing into his veins.

Andrew Minyard did not believe in fate, but for a moment it seemed fate did believe in him.

**Author's Note:**

> Since Andrew is a very complex and many-faceted character, it certainly wasn’t an easy story to write. I tried my best to portray him, but I think to write a worthy story in Andrew’s point of view my writing will never be good enough so I think he is out of character, sorry. I have no idea why I thought I could write something like this in the first place. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless and I have to admit that I have no idea how the witness protection program in the US works.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
